Harry Potter and the Autocrat of the Undead
by Sodoff Baldrick
Summary: It is Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts, and the world feels more sinister than it has ever felt. Voldemort is once again at large, and the chance disappearance of Harry's Defence against the Dark Arts Teacher leaves everyone fearing the worst.
1. At Four Privet Drive

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related names, characters and settings are the property of Warner Bros. Joanne Kathleen Rowling and her respective publishers. The author of this fanfic is in no way affiliated with any of these people or companies, and claims no ownership of any non-original character in the story. No profit will be made from this fan fiction.  
  
This fanfic was written by Sodoff Baldrick (Sod_off_Baldrick@hotmail.com)  
Harry Potter and the Autocrat of the Undead.  
Chapter 1-  
Mr. Vernon Dursley, of Number Four, Privet Drive, stared angrily at the letter in front of him:  
Dear Mr. Dursley,  
  
I am sorry to have to tell you that we cannot look after your nephew between the dates of August the First to September the First inclusive, as we are fully booked at that time. Normally, he would have been easily accommodated, but the summer holidays are perhaps our busiest time of year, and this year there has been a sudden increase in demand for childcare services such as ours. Work is being planned at present to expand our site, and we should be able to take your nephew next year.  
  
We apologise for any inconvenience this may have caused you  
  
Yours sincerely, Graham Deely  
  
After reading the letter through a second time, Vernon Dursley savagely ripped the letter into shreds and threw them manically across the breakfast table into the white plastic bin in the far corner of the dining room. His nephew, Harry, looked up from his bowl of soggy cornflakes and registered the rage in the face of his uncle. He knew right away what was making him so angry: Two weeks ago, the day after Harry had returned home from school for the summer holidays, his uncle had won a fourteen night stay in Florida for four from a raffle at the drill-making company, Grunnings, where he worked. Harry hadn't been too excited at the news- he doubted the Dursley family would be any nicer to him in Florida than at Privet Drive. He also found it unsurprising that, due to his desire to make his nephew as miserable as possible, his Uncle Vernon had opted not to take him along, instead inviting his sister, Marge. Harry's Aunt Petunia, Vernon's wife, and their son, Dudley, would also be going, and they would be staying for a further fortnight at Marjorie Dursley's home after returning from abroad. Uncle Vernon had therefore spent the last two weeks trying to find someone who would keep an eye on Harry while he was away. So far he had been extremely unsuccessful. A shrill cry of "would you not stare at your Uncle like that" coming from the dining room door told Harry that his Aunt Petunia was present. He dearly wished he could say that if he had any desire to stare at anyone, it would not be his Uncle Vernon, but he thought better of it. Aunt Petunia, though, had in no stretch of the imagination finished talking. "Look at you! Sitting idly about while your uncle and I work to the bone trying to find someone to take your ungrateful self while we're away!" "Why can't I just stay here?" Harry suggested. Uncle Vernon became even more enraged at this remark than he had at the letter. "LEAVE YOU HERE? DO WE LOOK STUPID! WE'D HAVE NO HOME TO COME BACK TO! AND YOU- YOU'D BE FREE TO SHOW OFF YOUR... YOUR... ABNORMALITY! THERE'S NO WAY THAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN! AND DON'T EVEN THINK YOU'LL BE STAYING WITH THOSE. THOSE FRIENDS OF YOURS EITHER!" He stopped to take a breath before saying quietly but savagely. "I've had enough of you. Go to your room and don't come back down until we say so." Harry willingly obliged, his uncle's words still ringing in his ears.  
  
We'd have no home to come back to! Harry repeated angrily in his mind. Did the Dursleys think he was going to blow the house up? He still didn't know how! He couldn't deny, however, that he was indeed abnormal.  
  
Though Harry looked like a normal boy, he was, in fact, a wizard; a wizard who had undergone four years of training at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where they were taught complex charms, how to brew powerful potions (and then have them criticised by the hook-nosed Potions master, Snape) and transfigure objects into other objects, and learned of great wizarding events of the past in the extremely boring History of Magic, and wild magical animals in Care of Magical Creatures, taught by one of Harry's close friends and the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid. Hogwarts was more like home to Harry than Privet Drive would ever be, and, as always, he felt lost in the summer, isolated from the wizarding world, Quidditch- his favourite wizarding sport- and his friends. Uncle Vernon wouldn't have to worry about Harry staying with any of his friends either. In his first and third summers after starting at Hogwarts four years ago, he had stayed with his best friend Ron Weasley, but his mother, Molly, had just as good as had been forbidden to take Harry by Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts. Harry could rule out his other best friend, Hermione Granger, as well. Apart from the fact that he had absolutely no idea where she was, Hermione's parents were Muggles (non- magical people) and would not very easily be able to smuggle Harry out. It was a sad fact, then, that Harry would have no contact with the wizarding world until his return to Hogwarts on September the first. All three of the Dursleys were one hundred percent Muggle and despised magic of any description. To them, having a wizard in the house was a matter of deepest shame, which was why Uncle Vernon loved so much to keep Harry unhappy.  
  
After saying hello to Hedwig, the snowy owl Hagrid had bought him for his eleventh birthday, Harry reached for a comb on his bedside table, and tried once again to flatten his messy black hair, revealing a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. This scar was perhaps the only proof that Harry was special, even among wizards. Almost fourteen years ago, on the Halloween of 1981, when Harry was just a year old, his father, James Potter, had been betrayed by one of his closest friends, Peter Pettigrew, also known as Wormtail, who gave information of their whereabouts to Lord Voldemort, the most evil wizard who had ever lived. With Wormtail's information, Voldemort had broken in to the Potter household at Godric's Hollow, and killed James with the lethal Avada Kedavra curse. Voldemort also killed Lily Potter, Harry's mother, before turning to Harry himself. Voldemort had tried to cast the Avada Kedavra curse on Harry, but hadn't been able to kill the child; because Lily Potter had sacrificed herself to save her son, she had left an ancient magic upon him- magic that was able to repel Voldemort's attack. Harry escaped with the lightning scar on his forehead. Voldemort, however, was stripped of his powers and his body when his curse backfired.  
  
Thus, Voldemort had been defeated, and Harry had become the most famous child in the wizarding world. The fingers of blame for the Potter's deaths had pointed to Sirius Black, James' best friend and Harry's own godfather, who everyone thought to have held the information Voldemort required. Harry had found out the truth in his third year, when Sirius had escaped from Azkaban, the wizard's prison, to track down Wormtail. Harry had been extremely surprised to see that the man who had supposedly tried to avenge his parents, and was meant to be dead, was none other than Scabbers, Ron's old pet rat. Wormtail had faked his own death, by blasting apart a large section of a street, killed thirteen Muggles with a single curse- framing Sirius Black- and escaped down the sewers with the rats; Wormtail was an Animagus- a wizard capable of transforming into a particular animal at will- in his case, it was a rat. Sirius had been sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban for crimes he had not committed, and, even today, few people actually knew he was innocent. Sirius, as far as Harry new, was now hiding with his other best friend, Remus Lupin, who had been Harry's Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher in his third year (Hogwarts had had a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher every year- some believed the job was jinxed), evading the Ministry of Magic and rebelling against Voldemort.  
  
Thirteen years after that Halloween night, though, just a couple of months ago, Harry had witnessed Voldemort's rebirth, having been transported to the grave of Voldemort's own father, Tom Riddle, whom the Dark Lord had killed himself. The Portkey that had transported him was the Triwizard Cup that he and Cedric Diggory had agreed to win simultaneously. Cedric was killed on the spot. He was just a spare, unimportant to Voldemort. Voldemort had then been reborn with an ancient spell that required the bone of the father, the flesh of the servant, Wormtail and the blood of the enemy. Harry.  
  
Harry could still feel the pain in his arm where Wormtail had cut it. The wound had left a scar. Not an especially unusual scar, like the one on his forehead, but he sometimes felt it throb like the lightning bolt scar. Sometimes they would hurt simultaneously and throb in time with each other. The scar was Harry's sign that Voldemort had indeed returned; that it had not all been a terrible dream. Harry had fought with the Dark Lord that night; almost gotten himself killed. But he had been saved by a mysterious side effect. Since Harry's and Voldemort's wands were brothers, they could not be made to duel each other, and when they were forced to Voldemort's wand had been affected by Priori Incantatem, which showed spells a wand had cast in reverse order. Voldemort had been overcome by the shadows of those he had killed, and Harry had managed to escape, dragging Cedric with him, using the Triwizard Cup Portkey that had brought them there. Right now, however, Harry was home. Safe. Or was he? He had heard that Albus Dumbledore, the Hogwarts headmaster, had cast protective enchantments around the Dursley household. Harry smiled a half-smile. Dumbledore always knew what he was doing. Harry was safe here. He turned his attention to a more immediate problem.  
  
It looked like Harry might be a temporary homeless if the Dursleys didn't find him somewhere to stay. He knew that Uncle Vernon wasn't joking when he told Harry that he would never let him stay home alone, and nobody would pay for him to go on holiday with them. He sighed, letting go of the comb that had been hanging by his side for the last few minutes. When the comb hit the ground, though, Harry was surprised, as it sounded like it had hit glass rather than wood. Tap tap tap. Funny. But he hadn't dropped anything this time. Tap tap tap. It was then that Harry realised what the sound was. He tilted his head towards his window.  
  
There were two owls tapping with their feet on the other side. 


	2. Word from the Wizarding World

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related names, characters and settings are the property of Warner Bros. Joanne Kathleen Rowling and her respective publishers. The author of this fanfic is in no way affiliated with any of these people or companies, and claims no ownership of any non-original character in the story. No profit will be made from this fan fiction.  
  
This fanfic was written by Sodoff Baldrick (Sod_off_Baldrick@hotmail.com)  
  
Harry Potter and the Autocrat of the Undead  
Chapter 2-  
Harry made a mad and altogether not too impressive vault over to the window and started fumbling with the catch. It took him a while. The stiff catch was in dire need of a lubricant, but the Dursleys, no doubt hoping to eliminate any chance of Harry having any contact to the wizarding world through his window, had neglected this fact. He finally yanked it open to be greeted by the rough talons of a grand tawny owl, which had bolted through the moment the gap was wide enough. The owl landed elegantly on Harry's bed. to be smacked head on by a much smaller owl, a pigmy, who Harry immediately recognised to be Ron's owl Pigwidgeon, better known as Pig. Both owls carried letters around their necks. Knowing that this must be a Hogwarts Owl, and they could be as impatient as anyone, Harry first took the letter off the tawny, who quickly took off- again scraping Harry's arm- and flew off into the mid-morning sky.  
  
Harry then turned to Pig, and removed his typically far-too-heavy load, before putting the minute owl in the cage with Hedwig, who didn't seem too thrilled that she had to share her home as well as, apparently, her job. Falling back onto his bed, Harry took his first letter and slit it open. It was the letter from Hogwarts, and had all the usual equipment lists and information- the Hogwarts Express, as if he didn't know already, would be leaving at 11 o' clock on September the First. There was also a small note that didn't usually turn up, which read:  
  
Due to certain circumstances, additional regulation have been made, of which you will be fully informed on your return to Hogwarts  
  
Harry groaned. The "certain circumstances", of course, almost certainly referred to Voldemort, and these "regulations" would seriously limit his freedom. He dropped the later, turning his attention to the second, hoping it would be friendlier and more interesting.  
  
It was from Ron.  
  
Harry,  
How's the summer going? Hope the Muggles aren't getting you down!  
  
It's been a real bore living around here lately. Dad's been working overtime at the ministry again, and all we've got left to do is look after our aunt Enid while Uncle Gerald is away trying to find counter spells for the curses. You wouldn't believe how old fashioned she is! She thinks the Shooting Star is 'the height of luxury. and don't you forget it young man!" It's really driving me nuts.  
  
Fred and George want to thank you for the gold again. I know you won't believe it but they managed to pass everything except for potions and herbology! So they're staying at Hogwarts for the last two years after all. Just as well really: Mum said she'd banish them from the house if they were kicked out.  
  
Look, I really want you to come over and stay with us, but Dad asked Dumbledore about it and he says it's still too risky. But what about staying at Hermione's? Dumbledore say's that's OK because she lives in the Muggle world during the summer like you do. She say's she'll owl you about it just as soon as you send Hedwig over for her. I guess I'll see you there. I'll be staying there too, if I can talk Mum into it.  
  
Ron  
Harry, sighing, picked up a black biro off the floor and scribbled a quick note on a piece of paper. He didn't keep parchment or quills lying around in case the Dursleys saw them and took them away.  
  
Hermione,  
  
Thanks for letting me stay, but I don't know if I can. The Dursleys are going on holiday and they're trying to find a holiday camp or something like that. They've had no luck so far though. I might end up being thrown out in the street if they don't find someone by Wednesday. Either way, I won't be able to reach you unless I magic myself over, and I'm not risking that. My record's not exactly clean.  
  
Harry  
  
Calling Hedwig over, Harry tied the letter to her, and she instinctively soared straight out of the window. Pigwidgeon clambered out of the cage and fluttered clumsily out after her.  
  
*****************  
  
The Tuesday before the Dursleys were to go away on holiday, Uncle Vernon was reading his morning paper when he heard the cluttering of his letterbox. He turned his head towards Harry. "Go get that" he murmured. Harry dutifully went to collect the mail. Apart from the usual assortment of bills and junk mail, there was one letter that instantly caught Harry's attention. The address was written in a neat script that Harry thought seemed very familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He gave the letters to Uncle Vernon back in the living room, and, as Harry had hoped, he tossed the bills and junk mail aside and opened the other letter first. As he scanned the letter, his face changed from one of boredom to obvious excitement.  
  
"This is it!" he exclaimed. "Petunia! Petunia! Come here!" Aunt Petunia walked groggily in from the kitchen where she had been washing the breakfast pots. "What is it now?" she asked. "This is it!" Vernon repeated, "This is where we can send that boy! Listen: 'Granger's is one of the top carers in the country, and will willingly take your child no matter what is on his record. If you want to leave your child here, please reply to Grangers, 16, Derryview Lane, Suffolk, or come in person." Aunt Petunia let out a rather high-pitched squeak of delight which made Harry's ears hurt. "And I thought we might have had to bring him along with us! This is wonderful news! When can we get rid of him?"  
  
"Tomorrow." Uncle Vernon cheerily replied. 


End file.
